As shameful as it is to admit, I lie every day. Most of the time, I don't even think about it. Sometimes, I know that what I'm saying isn't entirely honest, but I'm saying it to be kind. Sometimes, I'm fully aware of my deception.
Before you cast stones, please understand that I'm not talking about earth-shattering, world-changing lies. I recognize that the severity of the lie doesn't make it any more or less a lie. No more than the severity of any other sin makes it any more or less a sin.
My intention here is to discuss the "everyday lies" that we may tend to gloss over, because we often don't perceive them to be what they really are – less than truthful. Yes, I said "we" – because, chances are, many of you are probably guilty of one or more of these on a regular basis yourselves.
So, here they are – the ones I could think of at least. So that it doesn't appear that I'm pointing fingers at anyone other than myself, I'll word my explanations from my own perspective. But I'm betting most of us are in the same boat on a few, if not all, of these.
1) "I'm fine." How easy it is to say "I'm fine", when the question is posed, especially in passing. I may be having the worst day of my life, or I may feel awful, or I may not even feel anything. But the question, from a friend or family member, or possibly a stranger seems to come so easily – "How are you doing?" – and the answer comes just as easily: "I'm fine." Maybe I'm saying it out of consideration for the other person's valuable time. I can see that they're just being polite – they don't actually care how I'm doing. They may not even know who I am. Why should I waste their time, or impose upon their politeness by replying, "Well, I think I'm having a nervous breakdown," or "My right foot hurts – I think my athlete's foot is flaring up again", or perhaps, "I really don't feel like talking to you, Total Stranger, but thank you for inquiring about the state of my well-being." But instead I say, "I'm fine."
2) "It's nothing." How often are simple arguments/discussions/ disagreements prolonged by the simple statement, "It's nothing"? I've often said it myself, usually when I don't feel like fighting with someone. Or I deem whatever the "nothing" is to be less important the energy I will expend in dealing with it, whether verbally, physically, or otherwise. "It's nothing" is probably one of the most transparent lies I will ever tell. Because if I'm visibly upset enough that you are asking me the question "What's wrong?", then it's obvious that "something" is bothering me, and it's not "nothing". Maybe the problem is an embarrassing one that I don't want to talk about. Or, like the previous scenario, I don't know the person who's asking me the question, and I figure it's none of their business anyway. Or maybe I feel like the "something" is "nothing" in comparison to other, more important "somethings" – like the War On Terror, for instance, or perhaps famine, or the rising cost of living. So I trivialize the "something" in my own mind, and simply say, "It's nothing."
3) "No, I don't mind." This lie is particularly disingenuous, yet it's most often fueled by simple kindness. Someone is in need – they ask for my help. My selfishness kicks in – I don't want to help them. They should help themselves, I think. And I'm a half-second away from telling them so, and then I realize my foolishness, come to my senses, and say "No, I don't mind." Maybe they're asking if I will help them move their things to their new apartment, or they're requesting special permission to miss drama practice, or maybe they just want that last fry on my plate. And sometimes I do mind. Sometimes I don't want to give up what I consider to be rightfully mine – whether it's my free time, my full cast, or my French fry. But I consider the alternative. If I were in this situation, and I was asking the same or similar request of someone else, and I was truly in need, what would I want their answer to be? And so I reply, "No, I don't mind."
4) "I'm sorry to hear that." This little white lie is the companion piece to "I'm fine," but carries its own set of embarrassing admissions. As easy as it is to answer "How are you doing?", it's just as easy to ask the same question. Every now and then, I get an honest reply from someone. "Not too good, actually. I've got this problem with so-and-so..." Or maybe the question I pose is, "How's your wife doing? And your kids?" And I'm "treated" to a lengthy outline of the problems you're having, whether it's your child who keeps getting sent to the principal's office for acting up in class, or it's the financial problems you're have due to mounting debt, or maybe even – God forbid! – marital issues that you're dealing with. And, while my mind may already have moved on to other subjects, other people, or to nothing in particular at all – I'm looking you in the eye, and nodding my head (or shaking it, whichever is more appropriate), and waiting for a break in the conversation so I can frown and say, "I'm sorry to hear that." Don't get me wrong – this is not something I do in every circumstance, or every conversation I have with friends or family members. Quite often, I truly care what's going on in the lives of people I like, or even love. But then sometimes I don't. And that's when it gets dicey. And I lie and say, "I'm sorry to hear that."
5) "It's okay. Really." This one is quite similar to "No, I don't mind", and not too dissimilar from "It's nothing". But I've separated it out for one specific reason. This is the lie that deals with forgiveness. Someone has wronged me, I feel slighted, maybe even hurt. And they're apologizing. I'm usually quick to forgive, but what they did this time really bothered me. And it's not okay. But they're expecting me to accept their apology, trusting them not to wrong me, or slight me, or hurt me again in the future. I don't trust people easily, and so I'm skeptical of the reasons behind their apology. And I'm hesitant to forgive. But then I think about all the ways in which I've wronged others, slighted them, and even hurt them. And I want to be forgiven. In some cases, I want to be forgiven without the embarrassment of having to apologize in the first place, as selfish as I know that sentiment to be. Then I think about the ways in which I've wronged my God, and slighted Him, and hurt Him. And all the times I've asked Him to forgive me. And He does, every time without fail. And I hang my head in shame, look into the pleading eyes of my brother or sister, and simply say, "It's okay. Really."
What do we do about these "everyday lies"? Do we think before we speak, every time we speak? Do we carefully consider whether or not honesty is, in fact, the best policy, in every case? Or do we tell the truth always, regardless of the consequences?
I don't have the answers. I think there probably aren't any easy answers. I'm just bringing up the question.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Ten Ways To Torture Me: A Primer
1) Strap me to a chair and force me to watch a marathon of The Brady Bunch. For a minimum of 12 hours. With no bathroom break. And no barf bag close at hand.
2) Lock me in a room packed floor-to-ceiling with crates of Dr. Pepper (the old-school glass bottle kind), and leave me without a bottle opener. I am also not allowed to possess any other tool by which I might conceivably open the bottles. It is important that the bottles not be the twist-top types, but must instead be the kind which can only be opened with a tool. In addition, the floor, ceiling, and walls of said room must be thickly padded with foam, to make it all the more difficult for me to smash the bottles.
3) Prepare a meal for me, consisting of large quantities of only the following foods: cucumbers, rutabagas, cottage cheese, raw celery, beef liver, chitterlings (aka chitlins), and chocolate-covered ants. If possible, blend all the ingredients together till they become a smooth paste. Then, spoon-feed this mixture to me over the course of a three-hour time frame, denying my repeated pleas for water and/or any other beverage which might tamp down the multiplicity of flavors assaulting my palate.
4) See #1 (above) and replace The Brady Bunch with any television show hosted by or featuring Rachael Ray. Or Anne Burrell. Or Sandra Lee. Or the Neelys. Or...well, you get the picture. Any annoying cooking show will do the trick.
5) Corner me at a social event and talk to me at length about cars. Be sure to include as many details about the most insignificant parts of the car and the ways in which you are able to repair them expertly. While you're on the subject, profess to me your undying love of NASCAR. Please specify your favorite drivers and why they are your favorites, as well as your least favorite drivers and why they are your least favorites.
6) Read me the latest stock exchange numbers from the Wall Street Journal. Indicate, for each one, why it is good or bad that the numbers are up or down, and what effect this will have on the economy. For ultimate effectiveness, bring along a financial adviser and have them explain in greater detail using the least number of common, everyday "layman's terms" possible.
7) Put on your favorite "death metal" CD in my presence, crank it up to maximum volume, and "sing" along. When the CD is finished playing, please insert your next favorite "death metal" CD and repeat the process until you have played your entire collection for me.
8) Force me to read a story written entirely in "textese". Make sure it includes as many occurrences of the following "words" as possible: "2moro", "l8r", "ur", "c-ya", "ne1", and "ROTFL". Please ensure, prior to selecting the story, that it is a minimum of 20 pages in length, and contains no actual fully-spelled-out words.
9) See #1 (above) and replace The Brady Bunch with any show involving four-year-old beauty pageant contestants and their emotionally unstable, living-vicariously-through-their-children, possibly psychotic mothers. Need I say more on this one?
10) Take me hunting. Insist that I shoot an animal. Then make me "dress" it. Because anyone who knows me will testify that I love hunting. With a passion!
WAR AND PEACE UPDATE: I'm on page 78 of the printed version, which is Location 2400 on the Kindle, and that means I'm now roughly 8% finished. I could be going faster, but I'm reading, like, six books at once currently, so it's slow-going. But I'll get there. Guaranteed!
2) Lock me in a room packed floor-to-ceiling with crates of Dr. Pepper (the old-school glass bottle kind), and leave me without a bottle opener. I am also not allowed to possess any other tool by which I might conceivably open the bottles. It is important that the bottles not be the twist-top types, but must instead be the kind which can only be opened with a tool. In addition, the floor, ceiling, and walls of said room must be thickly padded with foam, to make it all the more difficult for me to smash the bottles.
3) Prepare a meal for me, consisting of large quantities of only the following foods: cucumbers, rutabagas, cottage cheese, raw celery, beef liver, chitterlings (aka chitlins), and chocolate-covered ants. If possible, blend all the ingredients together till they become a smooth paste. Then, spoon-feed this mixture to me over the course of a three-hour time frame, denying my repeated pleas for water and/or any other beverage which might tamp down the multiplicity of flavors assaulting my palate.
4) See #1 (above) and replace The Brady Bunch with any television show hosted by or featuring Rachael Ray. Or Anne Burrell. Or Sandra Lee. Or the Neelys. Or...well, you get the picture. Any annoying cooking show will do the trick.
5) Corner me at a social event and talk to me at length about cars. Be sure to include as many details about the most insignificant parts of the car and the ways in which you are able to repair them expertly. While you're on the subject, profess to me your undying love of NASCAR. Please specify your favorite drivers and why they are your favorites, as well as your least favorite drivers and why they are your least favorites.
6) Read me the latest stock exchange numbers from the Wall Street Journal. Indicate, for each one, why it is good or bad that the numbers are up or down, and what effect this will have on the economy. For ultimate effectiveness, bring along a financial adviser and have them explain in greater detail using the least number of common, everyday "layman's terms" possible.
7) Put on your favorite "death metal" CD in my presence, crank it up to maximum volume, and "sing" along. When the CD is finished playing, please insert your next favorite "death metal" CD and repeat the process until you have played your entire collection for me.
8) Force me to read a story written entirely in "textese". Make sure it includes as many occurrences of the following "words" as possible: "2moro", "l8r", "ur", "c-ya", "ne1", and "ROTFL". Please ensure, prior to selecting the story, that it is a minimum of 20 pages in length, and contains no actual fully-spelled-out words.
9) See #1 (above) and replace The Brady Bunch with any show involving four-year-old beauty pageant contestants and their emotionally unstable, living-vicariously-through-their-children, possibly psychotic mothers. Need I say more on this one?
10) Take me hunting. Insist that I shoot an animal. Then make me "dress" it. Because anyone who knows me will testify that I love hunting. With a passion!
WAR AND PEACE UPDATE: I'm on page 78 of the printed version, which is Location 2400 on the Kindle, and that means I'm now roughly 8% finished. I could be going faster, but I'm reading, like, six books at once currently, so it's slow-going. But I'll get there. Guaranteed!
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Five More Things I Learned From "Random Article"
Awhile back, last year in fact, I decided to click the "Random Article" button on Wikipedia.org to see what useless information I might be able to learn. The result? I actually learned quite a bit. Have I used any of this "knowledge" since then? Maybe not. But who's to say what's "useless" and what's not?
So here I am, going to that same well again, seeking nuggets of knowledge to file away in my brain -- and yours too. Lucky you.
1) The Dusky Grass-skipper, or Thyrrus Skipper (fancy-schmancy Latin name: Toridia thyrrhus) is a pretty weird-looking butterfly, part of the Hesperiidae family -- whatever that means. You won't find them around here. In fact, unless you find yourself in Queensland, Australia, you might never see one at all. So, here's a picture so you can say that you've seen one. Your life is now complete.
2) Wranglers Roost is a ghost town located in Maricopa County, Arizone, ear the town of New River. Wranglers Roost was once a stagecoach. Some of the original buildings used by the stagecoach drivers are still standing, including a jail cell where prisoners were boarded while the stagecoach drivers rested. Sounds like the perfect setting for an old Clint Eastwood or John Wayne movie. Here's a picture of the "town" these days. Doesn't look like much to me.
3) Franz Anton Mesmer (May 23, 1734 – March 5, 1815), was a German physician with an interest in astronomy, who theorized that there was a natural energetic transference that occurred between all animated and inanimate objects that he called magnétisme animal (animal magnetism) and other spiritual forces often grouped together as mesmerism. The degeneration of Mesmer's ideas and practices led Scottish surgeon James Braid to develop hypnosis in 1842. Mesmer's name is the root of the English verb "mesmerize". Well, that's interesting. Truly. Here's a portrait of Ol' Franzie -- ugly sucker, wasn't he?
4) The reverse-process indoor wood burning stove is a non-catalytic airtight heater. Employing a unique reverse process whereby it not only draws exterior air in to the wood stove for combustion, thus eliminating interior drafts, it also releases fresh outside air into the room through a rear-mounted plenum, where it is heated before entering the premises. This initiates a healthy fresh air exchange system, by introducing oxygen-rich air in to the building. The innovation by Jan Steen started as the Chinook, but later became known as the Sunrise wood stove. What have we learned? Well, I don't know what you got out of that, but I was completely lost. Good for Mr. Steen, though, he got his name in the history books. Well, at least he got mentioned on a Wikipedia page.
5) Kong Bukseløs (English translation: His New Grey Trousers) is a 1915 Danish silent film directed by Lau Lauritzen Sr. The film stars Oscar Stribolt as Paludan Plum; Carl Schenstrom as Adam Brink; Agnes Andersen as Bella; and Frederik Buch as En Skomagerdreng. I didn't even know Denmark made any silent movies. Random question: why do the characters in silent movies even need names? Isn't it mostly all driven by what we see anyway. Who cares what their names are? I know there's title cards that help tell the story, but I mean really -- who cares? Here's a still shot of a scene from the film:
There you have it. I encourage you to take your own trip through the wacky world of "Random Article" sometime. You never know what you'll find.
So here I am, going to that same well again, seeking nuggets of knowledge to file away in my brain -- and yours too. Lucky you.
1) The Dusky Grass-skipper, or Thyrrus Skipper (fancy-schmancy Latin name: Toridia thyrrhus) is a pretty weird-looking butterfly, part of the Hesperiidae family -- whatever that means. You won't find them around here. In fact, unless you find yourself in Queensland, Australia, you might never see one at all. So, here's a picture so you can say that you've seen one. Your life is now complete.
2) Wranglers Roost is a ghost town located in Maricopa County, Arizone, ear the town of New River. Wranglers Roost was once a stagecoach. Some of the original buildings used by the stagecoach drivers are still standing, including a jail cell where prisoners were boarded while the stagecoach drivers rested. Sounds like the perfect setting for an old Clint Eastwood or John Wayne movie. Here's a picture of the "town" these days. Doesn't look like much to me.
3) Franz Anton Mesmer (May 23, 1734 – March 5, 1815), was a German physician with an interest in astronomy, who theorized that there was a natural energetic transference that occurred between all animated and inanimate objects that he called magnétisme animal (animal magnetism) and other spiritual forces often grouped together as mesmerism. The degeneration of Mesmer's ideas and practices led Scottish surgeon James Braid to develop hypnosis in 1842. Mesmer's name is the root of the English verb "mesmerize". Well, that's interesting. Truly. Here's a portrait of Ol' Franzie -- ugly sucker, wasn't he?
4) The reverse-process indoor wood burning stove is a non-catalytic airtight heater. Employing a unique reverse process whereby it not only draws exterior air in to the wood stove for combustion, thus eliminating interior drafts, it also releases fresh outside air into the room through a rear-mounted plenum, where it is heated before entering the premises. This initiates a healthy fresh air exchange system, by introducing oxygen-rich air in to the building. The innovation by Jan Steen started as the Chinook, but later became known as the Sunrise wood stove. What have we learned? Well, I don't know what you got out of that, but I was completely lost. Good for Mr. Steen, though, he got his name in the history books. Well, at least he got mentioned on a Wikipedia page.
5) Kong Bukseløs (English translation: His New Grey Trousers) is a 1915 Danish silent film directed by Lau Lauritzen Sr. The film stars Oscar Stribolt as Paludan Plum; Carl Schenstrom as Adam Brink; Agnes Andersen as Bella; and Frederik Buch as En Skomagerdreng. I didn't even know Denmark made any silent movies. Random question: why do the characters in silent movies even need names? Isn't it mostly all driven by what we see anyway. Who cares what their names are? I know there's title cards that help tell the story, but I mean really -- who cares? Here's a still shot of a scene from the film:
There you have it. I encourage you to take your own trip through the wacky world of "Random Article" sometime. You never know what you'll find.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Lifting Three White Rhinceroses
We've been making quite a habit of going to the gym here lately. And that's a good thing. Weight doesn't lose itself. Hard work is almost always required.
Unless you're one of those disgusting people who can eat whatever you want, whenever you want, and never gain a pound. In which case, I probably hate you. Unless you are one of my friends. In which case, I don't hate you, but I do seriously resent you.
Mostly we've just been doing cardio exercises, like treadmills, ellipticals, recumbent bikes, and the like. Today, we decided to try out some of the weight-lifting machines.
Now, I'm one of those oddball kind of people who best recognizes success if I can quantify it.I like numbers. Not math, mind you, but statistics. When I've been working out on a recumbent bike, I take pride in the fact that I just pedaled 7.1 miles. If I were on an actual bike, I would have just pedaled halfway to Farmville (the real town, not the Facebook game).
So when I was using the various weight machines today, I started calculating in my head the total number of pounds I was lifting. My wife thought this was a bit pointless, and she may well have been right. But it made me feel successful. Twenty reps here at 50 pounds, and I've added another half-ton to my total.
By the time I was through, I had lifted a total of 13,600 pounds. I was impressed with myself, especially for the first time using the weight machines in a long time.
All told, I can honestly say that today I lifted the equivalent of three average-sized White Rhinoceroses. Not your typical thing to brag about, admittedly. But I'm not your typical guy. You have to admit, though -- it certainly sounds impressive.
Who knows, I may eventually work my way up to lifting six giraffes in one day! Or I could just say I lifted 25,000 lbs. Or I could just lift weights till I'm tired, and not quantify it -- you know, like normal people.
But normal isn't fun. And so I count...one White Rhinoceros, two White Rhinoceroses, three...
Unless you're one of those disgusting people who can eat whatever you want, whenever you want, and never gain a pound. In which case, I probably hate you. Unless you are one of my friends. In which case, I don't hate you, but I do seriously resent you.
Mostly we've just been doing cardio exercises, like treadmills, ellipticals, recumbent bikes, and the like. Today, we decided to try out some of the weight-lifting machines.
Now, I'm one of those oddball kind of people who best recognizes success if I can quantify it.I like numbers. Not math, mind you, but statistics. When I've been working out on a recumbent bike, I take pride in the fact that I just pedaled 7.1 miles. If I were on an actual bike, I would have just pedaled halfway to Farmville (the real town, not the Facebook game).
So when I was using the various weight machines today, I started calculating in my head the total number of pounds I was lifting. My wife thought this was a bit pointless, and she may well have been right. But it made me feel successful. Twenty reps here at 50 pounds, and I've added another half-ton to my total.
By the time I was through, I had lifted a total of 13,600 pounds. I was impressed with myself, especially for the first time using the weight machines in a long time.
All told, I can honestly say that today I lifted the equivalent of three average-sized White Rhinoceroses. Not your typical thing to brag about, admittedly. But I'm not your typical guy. You have to admit, though -- it certainly sounds impressive.
Who knows, I may eventually work my way up to lifting six giraffes in one day! Or I could just say I lifted 25,000 lbs. Or I could just lift weights till I'm tired, and not quantify it -- you know, like normal people.
But normal isn't fun. And so I count...one White Rhinoceros, two White Rhinoceroses, three...
Friday, January 20, 2012
Poems For Your Perusal: Three Of Them This Time, So It Doesn't Seem Like I'm Copping Out So I Don't Have To Write Anything Original
Today, for your amusement (or your bemusement? or your torture?), I offer you three – count them, three – of my more unusual poems. Don't hate – don't judge. They are what they are. Take them seriously. Or take them as I intended them: To make you smile...and maybe think...just a teeny bit.
"What The Blazes"
What the blazes do is wipe out the trees
Which makes the bears extremely unhappy
Then they come and pound on your tent
Requesting salmon – and maybe a warm blanket
Which it would be advisable to relinquish
Because no one wants to be the enemy of a bear.
What the fires do is burn down the mansions
Which makes the celebrities act almost human
Then they come and cry on your networks
Requesting sympathy – and maybe a new mansion
Which would be no problem really, and quite lucrative
Because everyone loves a great new reality show.
"Shucking Fit"
When I feel this way
Nothing really helps.
I try faking a smile
It makes my jaw hurt.
I try ignoring it
My wind wanders back.
I try to stay busy
I tire easily.
No, nothing really helps
Except shucking corn.
It's cheap therapy
And gets the blood flowing.
It's useful
And you can eat the results.
Sometimes I become obsessed
Tearing away the husks
As though they were the faces
Of my enemies
Exposing the goodness inside.
But that's an optimism
I'm not ready to accept.
So let me mix my metaphors in peace
And – shucking myself into a fit –
Gradually feel better.
"A Fish Out Of Brine"
If I were a fish,
A fish out of brine,
Would I lie on the counter
Wait for my demise –
Already effected,
Now pickled and canned?
If I were a fish,
Would I melt in your hand?
Or salted and deboned
And gutted throughout,
Would I melt, would I leave
A funny taste in your mouth?
I would if I were true
To my character.
PLUMBING UPDATE: They fixed the water leak all in one day! They only had to tear up one patio square!! And the whole thing's going to cost less than half the price they originally quoted us!!! I love using exclamation points!!!!
WAR AND PEACE UPDATE: I'm on page 60 of the printed version, or Location 1895 on the Kindle, which roughly equates to 6% complete overall. Not impressed yet? Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins, just you wait! I'll conquer this wonderful monstrosity yet! Hey, I'm still enjoying it, and I've nearly reached the point where I gave up on it 20+ years ago!
"What The Blazes"
What the blazes do is wipe out the trees
Which makes the bears extremely unhappy
Then they come and pound on your tent
Requesting salmon – and maybe a warm blanket
Which it would be advisable to relinquish
Because no one wants to be the enemy of a bear.
What the fires do is burn down the mansions
Which makes the celebrities act almost human
Then they come and cry on your networks
Requesting sympathy – and maybe a new mansion
Which would be no problem really, and quite lucrative
Because everyone loves a great new reality show.
"Shucking Fit"
When I feel this way
Nothing really helps.
I try faking a smile
It makes my jaw hurt.
I try ignoring it
My wind wanders back.
I try to stay busy
I tire easily.
No, nothing really helps
Except shucking corn.
It's cheap therapy
And gets the blood flowing.
It's useful
And you can eat the results.
Sometimes I become obsessed
Tearing away the husks
As though they were the faces
Of my enemies
Exposing the goodness inside.
But that's an optimism
I'm not ready to accept.
So let me mix my metaphors in peace
And – shucking myself into a fit –
Gradually feel better.
"A Fish Out Of Brine"
If I were a fish,
A fish out of brine,
Would I lie on the counter
Wait for my demise –
Already effected,
Now pickled and canned?
If I were a fish,
Would I melt in your hand?
Or salted and deboned
And gutted throughout,
Would I melt, would I leave
A funny taste in your mouth?
I would if I were true
To my character.
PLUMBING UPDATE: They fixed the water leak all in one day! They only had to tear up one patio square!! And the whole thing's going to cost less than half the price they originally quoted us!!! I love using exclamation points!!!!
WAR AND PEACE UPDATE: I'm on page 60 of the printed version, or Location 1895 on the Kindle, which roughly equates to 6% complete overall. Not impressed yet? Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins, just you wait! I'll conquer this wonderful monstrosity yet! Hey, I'm still enjoying it, and I've nearly reached the point where I gave up on it 20+ years ago!
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The Great Thing About Being A Pessimist
The great thing about being a pessimist is that when things go right, you're always surprised.
Anyone who read my post yesterday may have surmised that I didn't exactly have a good day by any stretch of the imagination. While it was a 100% accurate representation of how many wildly different thoughts run through my head throughout the course of a day, yesterday was not typical. Thankfully.
First, I was lamenting the fact – over and over again, actually – that I was possibly one person short for the drama, and that fear/worry/apprehension doubled once I got to church and realized that not only was I one person short, I was now two people short, as someone who had previously signed up had crossed their name out.
(Apparently, my unease took on a physical manifestation, as one of my church friends, upon seeing me remarked, "Wow! Your face is really RED!" I remarked that it also felt as though it were really red, and that I felt flushed, and my face was somewhat warm to the touch. This flushed feeling – and look too, I'm sure – continued throughout the evening, but went away sometime during my sleep.)
So, I was now two people short heading into the final audition, and panicking more than was reasonable. But then the most curious thing happened last night and this morning – the guy who couldn't do it before, and the lady who had crossed her name off last night both decided that they could, wanted to, and would participate after all. Wow! Problem solved. Didn't see that coming.
Second, there was the apprehension about the plumbing situation. The guy never did call yesterday, and I didn't call him. Until this morning, that is. I was headed out the door, when my phone rang, and it was the plumber. "We're coming this morning to start the job, if that's all right with you," he says to me. "Absolutely, it's all right with me!" I said. "Of course it's all right with me!" After checking that I didn't need to stay and wait to let them in the house, I left for work, marveling at the unexpected excellent timing of the plumber. Didn't expect that either.
I hadn't been at work more than 30 minutes when the plumber called me back. Bad news already? Nope, they just needed to get in the house after all. So back home I headed.
While I was securing the scared-of-jackhammers kitties in our bedroom upstairs so that they were out of the way of the plumbers doing any work they may have to do inside, I heard a sound outside the second-floor window.
Errant birds smacking into the window panes? Nope. A ladder being set up against the house. What in the world?
Turns out it was the roofing guy, returning unexpectedly to fix the flashing around the dormers in the front of the house so rainstorms would stop ruining our bedroom ceiling (the same guy had fixed our skylight flashing for the third-floor ceiling leak a couple of weeks ago). Wow! Didn't see that coming either.
Don't get me wrong – not everything has achieved hunkydorydom in one day.
I still haven't called the Honda guy about picking up the keys.
I still didn't make it to the gym at lunch today (I had to pick up some cat food – our fat cat, Winnie, is an emotional eater, and he'll need to have plenty of food after today's trauma).
The "check engine" light is still on in the van, and I still don't know why.
Mary and I ran out of time this morning to make the marinade for the chicken, so it's just gonna be plain, and we'll make a dipping sauce.
I still don't know any more about Scotland than I did yesterday. But Wikipedia isn't blacked out anymore, so that knowledge is at my fingertips, should I choose to acquire it.
But things are looking up. Or down, in the case of the maybe-it-needs-batteries-and-maybe-it-doesn't scale. I weighed two pounds less this morning, if you can believe that. (Maybe I worried it off?)
And best of all, I finished writing about that stupid flannel shirt. And a few more after that. I've moved on to pants and hoodies and t-shirts. Plugging away quite nicely, in fact...
Maybe I should pessimistically whine about everything else that's wrong with the world. I just might wake up tomorrow and say, "Wow! Didn't see that coming either!"
You never know...
Anyone who read my post yesterday may have surmised that I didn't exactly have a good day by any stretch of the imagination. While it was a 100% accurate representation of how many wildly different thoughts run through my head throughout the course of a day, yesterday was not typical. Thankfully.
First, I was lamenting the fact – over and over again, actually – that I was possibly one person short for the drama, and that fear/worry/apprehension doubled once I got to church and realized that not only was I one person short, I was now two people short, as someone who had previously signed up had crossed their name out.
(Apparently, my unease took on a physical manifestation, as one of my church friends, upon seeing me remarked, "Wow! Your face is really RED!" I remarked that it also felt as though it were really red, and that I felt flushed, and my face was somewhat warm to the touch. This flushed feeling – and look too, I'm sure – continued throughout the evening, but went away sometime during my sleep.)
So, I was now two people short heading into the final audition, and panicking more than was reasonable. But then the most curious thing happened last night and this morning – the guy who couldn't do it before, and the lady who had crossed her name off last night both decided that they could, wanted to, and would participate after all. Wow! Problem solved. Didn't see that coming.
Second, there was the apprehension about the plumbing situation. The guy never did call yesterday, and I didn't call him. Until this morning, that is. I was headed out the door, when my phone rang, and it was the plumber. "We're coming this morning to start the job, if that's all right with you," he says to me. "Absolutely, it's all right with me!" I said. "Of course it's all right with me!" After checking that I didn't need to stay and wait to let them in the house, I left for work, marveling at the unexpected excellent timing of the plumber. Didn't expect that either.
I hadn't been at work more than 30 minutes when the plumber called me back. Bad news already? Nope, they just needed to get in the house after all. So back home I headed.
While I was securing the scared-of-jackhammers kitties in our bedroom upstairs so that they were out of the way of the plumbers doing any work they may have to do inside, I heard a sound outside the second-floor window.
Errant birds smacking into the window panes? Nope. A ladder being set up against the house. What in the world?
Turns out it was the roofing guy, returning unexpectedly to fix the flashing around the dormers in the front of the house so rainstorms would stop ruining our bedroom ceiling (the same guy had fixed our skylight flashing for the third-floor ceiling leak a couple of weeks ago). Wow! Didn't see that coming either.
Don't get me wrong – not everything has achieved hunkydorydom in one day.
I still haven't called the Honda guy about picking up the keys.
I still didn't make it to the gym at lunch today (I had to pick up some cat food – our fat cat, Winnie, is an emotional eater, and he'll need to have plenty of food after today's trauma).
The "check engine" light is still on in the van, and I still don't know why.
Mary and I ran out of time this morning to make the marinade for the chicken, so it's just gonna be plain, and we'll make a dipping sauce.
I still don't know any more about Scotland than I did yesterday. But Wikipedia isn't blacked out anymore, so that knowledge is at my fingertips, should I choose to acquire it.
But things are looking up. Or down, in the case of the maybe-it-needs-batteries-and-maybe-it-doesn't scale. I weighed two pounds less this morning, if you can believe that. (Maybe I worried it off?)
And best of all, I finished writing about that stupid flannel shirt. And a few more after that. I've moved on to pants and hoodies and t-shirts. Plugging away quite nicely, in fact...
Maybe I should pessimistically whine about everything else that's wrong with the world. I just might wake up tomorrow and say, "Wow! Didn't see that coming either!"
You never know...
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
This Is How My Mind Works...
Okay, as soon as I finish writing about these Marmot shirts, jackets, and pants, I can move on to the Carhartt stuff that I've been putting off.
What am I going to do if we really are one guy short for the Easter drama? I can't play the part myself. I mean, I could. But who has the time? I don't. Maybe I can talk to someone at church tonight.
I probably should call the plumber back to see if he's definitely coming tomorrow (doubtful – he said he'd call me) or if he'll throw another lame promise at me that they'll get started first thing next week – the same thing he said last Thursday when I called him. It's always me calling them. They never call. Why is that?
I really hope the "check engine" light that came on in the van this morning is just a faulty gas cap, at best, or a busted hose, at worst. We really can't afford for the transmission to go out a second time in a year and a half, especially now, with all the other money we're going to have to shell out for the plumbing job. I'll deal with it on Friday, or maybe next week.
You know, I'm pretty sure that water noise you can hear in the downstairs bathroom is getting louder. Either that, or I'm just more aware of it the more time that passes without the stupid thing getting fixed. I hope they do come tomorrow.
Okay, back to this flannel shirt. I wonder where the word "flannel" originates anyway? Probably Scotland. Most plaid flannel patterns resemble the tartan family crests you see at Busch Gardens or on the covers of smarmy romance novels about Highlanders. Or maybe I'm just thinking that they look the same because I don't know much about Scotland.
Wikipedia. "Scotland". Are you kidding me? Wikipedia has shut down for 24 hours to show that they won't support the passing of SOPA? What is SOPA anyway? Wikipedia. What do you know? That article isn't shut down. Coincidence? Not likely. "Stop Online Piracy Act", blah blah blah, whole websites could be shut down because of one errant blog post? I don't like this. Not like I can do anything about it anyway.
I keep forgetting to call the Honda guy back, the guy who sold us the new Honda who left a message around Christmas to let us know the second key had been brought in by the previous owners. I hope he still kept it for us. I'll call him tomorrow. If I'm not home waiting for the plumbers to arrive, that is. Or at the auto body shop getting the van checked out. I've got too much on my plate.
I gotta get mentally prepared for the second round of auditions tonight. Is it really auditions if most of the parts have already been picked, at least in my head? Well, there's the gaping hole in the leading male role, now that we're a man short. I should probably email him to see if he's definitely out. Maybe he can still do it.
No, you can't think like that. You have to prepare for the worst. Because the worst usually happens anyway. That's a fatalistic thought. But realistic. Hey, those two words rhyme. Maybe I could form some kind of macabre poetry out of this mess.
No, I need to get back to writing the flannel shirt. Sometimes my job can be so tedious. How many different things can you say about a shirt? It has sleeves, either long or short, it has a collar or it doesn't, maybe it has a pocket at the chest, does it button or snap closed, what's it made of, and is that material soft or durable, or soft and durable. What does it matter anyway? The picture sells the shirt. But if that's true, then I've just become superfluous.
That book that I finished listening to yesterday "The Diary of a Superfluous Man," that was pretty good. Kinda morbid, though. Actually, really quite bleak. But well-written. I chuckled at the main character's frequent misfortunes. (Is that horrible?) Probably because I could relate. Sort of. Kinda mostly, in fact. That was a good book. I should look for more books by Ivan Turgenev. The man may have been gloomy, but he sure could write. I wonder how long ago he died? Wikipedia. Dang it, I forgot about the blackout!
Okay, so it's a flannel shirt. Long-sleeve, of course – what flannel shirt isn't? That would be pretty weird, a short-sleeve flannel shirt. "Keeps you warm and cool at the same time." That's pretty stupid. But consider the source. I'm a little punchy. I need to get more sleep tonight.
I really wish I could've gotten to the gym at lunch, but after getting the guy at Advanced Auto to check the code, then dropping by Big Lots to pick up those trash cans we've been needing, half of my lunch period was gone. Well, there's always tomorrow. And at least I drank my protein shake, so it wasn't a completely off-the-diet lunch.
The scale this morning indicated that I had lost eight pounds since the first of the year. I find that hard to believe, but maybe it's right. Stupid scale probably needs batteries. I don't feel like I've lost eight pounds. When I look down, I still can't see my feet. My stupid belly is still in the stupid way. But tying my shoes has been a little less strenuous of late. Probably just my imagination.
I should really get this shirt finished up so I can move on to the next item, which is, let's see – oh, another flannel shirt. How exciting!
I wonder if I could convince one of the guys who hasn't signed up for the drama to be in it anyway, since we're short one guy. I know they're busy, but they love drama, right? Maybe they can still squeeze it in. But most of the guys I'm thinking of have demanding full-time jobs, families with young kids, and all that. It's doubtful that they'd be able to do it. If they could've, they would've signed up already. I hate asking people to do things they don't want to do. Just the thought of approaching someone to ask them to do me a favor makes me sick to my stomach. I don't ever want to be annoying.
Tomorrow night I'm cooking the chicken. Mary said she would help me with the marinade in the morning. I've never made it Asian-style before. I hope I don't screw it up. Oh well, if I do, Hibachi Xpress is still only two minutes from the house. Don't think like that. You're doing good on the diet. At Hibachi, you know you'll want to get fried rice instead of steamed and you'll use way too much white sauce, and you know that's probably mayo-based which isn't healthy in the least. (Why am I thinking in second person?)
Okay, back to the flannel shirt...
What am I going to do if we really are one guy short for the Easter drama? I can't play the part myself. I mean, I could. But who has the time? I don't. Maybe I can talk to someone at church tonight.
I probably should call the plumber back to see if he's definitely coming tomorrow (doubtful – he said he'd call me) or if he'll throw another lame promise at me that they'll get started first thing next week – the same thing he said last Thursday when I called him. It's always me calling them. They never call. Why is that?
I really hope the "check engine" light that came on in the van this morning is just a faulty gas cap, at best, or a busted hose, at worst. We really can't afford for the transmission to go out a second time in a year and a half, especially now, with all the other money we're going to have to shell out for the plumbing job. I'll deal with it on Friday, or maybe next week.
You know, I'm pretty sure that water noise you can hear in the downstairs bathroom is getting louder. Either that, or I'm just more aware of it the more time that passes without the stupid thing getting fixed. I hope they do come tomorrow.
Okay, back to this flannel shirt. I wonder where the word "flannel" originates anyway? Probably Scotland. Most plaid flannel patterns resemble the tartan family crests you see at Busch Gardens or on the covers of smarmy romance novels about Highlanders. Or maybe I'm just thinking that they look the same because I don't know much about Scotland.
Wikipedia. "Scotland". Are you kidding me? Wikipedia has shut down for 24 hours to show that they won't support the passing of SOPA? What is SOPA anyway? Wikipedia. What do you know? That article isn't shut down. Coincidence? Not likely. "Stop Online Piracy Act", blah blah blah, whole websites could be shut down because of one errant blog post? I don't like this. Not like I can do anything about it anyway.
I keep forgetting to call the Honda guy back, the guy who sold us the new Honda who left a message around Christmas to let us know the second key had been brought in by the previous owners. I hope he still kept it for us. I'll call him tomorrow. If I'm not home waiting for the plumbers to arrive, that is. Or at the auto body shop getting the van checked out. I've got too much on my plate.
I gotta get mentally prepared for the second round of auditions tonight. Is it really auditions if most of the parts have already been picked, at least in my head? Well, there's the gaping hole in the leading male role, now that we're a man short. I should probably email him to see if he's definitely out. Maybe he can still do it.
No, you can't think like that. You have to prepare for the worst. Because the worst usually happens anyway. That's a fatalistic thought. But realistic. Hey, those two words rhyme. Maybe I could form some kind of macabre poetry out of this mess.
No, I need to get back to writing the flannel shirt. Sometimes my job can be so tedious. How many different things can you say about a shirt? It has sleeves, either long or short, it has a collar or it doesn't, maybe it has a pocket at the chest, does it button or snap closed, what's it made of, and is that material soft or durable, or soft and durable. What does it matter anyway? The picture sells the shirt. But if that's true, then I've just become superfluous.
That book that I finished listening to yesterday "The Diary of a Superfluous Man," that was pretty good. Kinda morbid, though. Actually, really quite bleak. But well-written. I chuckled at the main character's frequent misfortunes. (Is that horrible?) Probably because I could relate. Sort of. Kinda mostly, in fact. That was a good book. I should look for more books by Ivan Turgenev. The man may have been gloomy, but he sure could write. I wonder how long ago he died? Wikipedia. Dang it, I forgot about the blackout!
Okay, so it's a flannel shirt. Long-sleeve, of course – what flannel shirt isn't? That would be pretty weird, a short-sleeve flannel shirt. "Keeps you warm and cool at the same time." That's pretty stupid. But consider the source. I'm a little punchy. I need to get more sleep tonight.
I really wish I could've gotten to the gym at lunch, but after getting the guy at Advanced Auto to check the code, then dropping by Big Lots to pick up those trash cans we've been needing, half of my lunch period was gone. Well, there's always tomorrow. And at least I drank my protein shake, so it wasn't a completely off-the-diet lunch.
The scale this morning indicated that I had lost eight pounds since the first of the year. I find that hard to believe, but maybe it's right. Stupid scale probably needs batteries. I don't feel like I've lost eight pounds. When I look down, I still can't see my feet. My stupid belly is still in the stupid way. But tying my shoes has been a little less strenuous of late. Probably just my imagination.
I should really get this shirt finished up so I can move on to the next item, which is, let's see – oh, another flannel shirt. How exciting!
I wonder if I could convince one of the guys who hasn't signed up for the drama to be in it anyway, since we're short one guy. I know they're busy, but they love drama, right? Maybe they can still squeeze it in. But most of the guys I'm thinking of have demanding full-time jobs, families with young kids, and all that. It's doubtful that they'd be able to do it. If they could've, they would've signed up already. I hate asking people to do things they don't want to do. Just the thought of approaching someone to ask them to do me a favor makes me sick to my stomach. I don't ever want to be annoying.
Tomorrow night I'm cooking the chicken. Mary said she would help me with the marinade in the morning. I've never made it Asian-style before. I hope I don't screw it up. Oh well, if I do, Hibachi Xpress is still only two minutes from the house. Don't think like that. You're doing good on the diet. At Hibachi, you know you'll want to get fried rice instead of steamed and you'll use way too much white sauce, and you know that's probably mayo-based which isn't healthy in the least. (Why am I thinking in second person?)
Okay, back to the flannel shirt...
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